Female experience, the follow-up

For those who give a rat's ass (and from the response to this morning's post on FB, not many do), here is the description of my distaff detour:

I was standing at our overcramped-with-dirty-dishes sink at 6:30 this morning, struggling with a load design which would allow all the offending dishware to be done in one, water-and-time-saving bunch...  As I did so, I felt distinctly female...

Before you unleash a salvo of commentary about my sexism, let me explain...  Women, especially women in marriages or other types of domestic partnerships, are often not the breadwinners...therefore they try their best to find other ways of being essential in the crewing of the ship of life....  They work overtime to play a supporting role, and to play it well...  They are the maids, they are the sex toys, they are the friendly ear, they are the oil for the pistons...

That was me, today, standing at that sink...

Lisa has been the breadwinner of our family for quite a while...my acting career is like those subterranean fires that burned for decades in Pennsylvania--yeah, there's still heat, but damn little flame...  I collect my S/S (early retirement) and my actor's union pension (meager at best), so I am able to contribute to the expenses of running the house, but...with over $800 bills for utilities, and the mortgage, and our prescription drug costs, and our pets, and, and, and...it falls upon my 20-years-my-junior wife to bring home the bacon...and she was disabled for a year and unemployed with nothing coming in for a couple of months thereafter...

Happily, she has found a position where her remarkable and very unique talents can shine, and she is enjoying helping a small-business owner build a successful insurance practice....but the rewards from this effort, aside from a minimal hourly wage, will take time to reap, so...

The point is, it is up to me to be the cheerleader, the physical trainer ("Hey, Champ, how's that shoulder today?...Did you get enough sleep last night?"  etc. etc.), the logistics and supply officer...the soccer mom driving the kids to the match...you get it....all those duties which fall, with regularity, to women...

Women, who are not only eminently better equipped emotionally and psychologically to the task, but who also are conditioned from birth to bear pain and frustration and feelings of inferiority with silence and grace...unlike the members of my sex.

Men are taught to bellow and bray.  We are taught that "men don't take that shit lying down"....we are taught that we are the kings of the universe, made in (male) God's image and worthy of (male) God's worship...

It is a brutal lesson--often fatal if not to body then to mind--receiving the memo that all the misogynist bullshit you learned about "male superiority" and male entitlement was a lie...and it is inevitable, even if only on the deathbed, that the memo will be delivered.

I, for one, am glad to experience this humiliation--essential to my growth--in increments while still aware enough to incorporate them into my daily life.

LALAland, up close and personal...

Wrapped a shoot for an ultra-low budget today...

As I sat in my self-provided canvas chair between takes, I took full advantage of our location--an "elite" little plant nursery next to Sherwood Magazines  (if you know LA, you know this place....if not, all the explanation in the world won't help).  I devised a little game where I would cast each passing person into a sitcom or "reality" show, past or present...  Lots of "Vanderpump Rules"--the 20-somethings who are oh so concerned with their looks...a few "Cheers", even a "That Girl"...a "Girls Gone Wild" segment with 7 or 8 vaguely Midwest-looking sorority sisters, all down-dressed in sweats, fast approaching La Cienega with plans to launch a meaningful Saturday Night assault on the local bars...

There was the mid-thirties fellow who talked to the plants as he passed by...he then actually came behind the gate and conversed with one of the exotics, then smiled and explained:  "My therapist!"  I smiled back and told him I approved of the choice...

But then came along a guy on an old, battered Honda scooter...he was shirtless, skinny as a rail, sunburned...he stopped his scooter in front of an apartment complex dumpster, opened the lids and started to rummage...his attempt at finding an honorable meal...

That brought me back from fantasyland to Murika 2014....with the simple thud of a dumpster lid...

God bless and help us all....